Archive of Our Own

The clock barely strikes 7 AM when Yohei turns his head blearily to the clock by his bedside. Comfortable as he is with his current state, Yohei nuzzles into his pillow, hand tugging at another pillow to cover his eyes from the filtering sunlight. It’s not the first time Yohei faced this situation: a doorbell rang across the house, forcing his body up to open the door only to find no one except some pamphlets.

Yohei almost dozes off for another round of sleep if not for another loud ring.

‘Go away. ’

He silently prays that the person will scram off, taking the lack of noise as an absence of people in the house or a glaring statement that it’s too early to open the door for someone who has visited without any prior notice. 

Here comes another doorbell. Three times. This person is persistent.

“It’s 7 AM, what are you even doing this early,” Yohei grumbles, putting his shirt on agitatedly. He is tempted to walk as slowly as he can to the door out of spite, let the person wait a little longer, if not for the incoming doorbell ringing. The next steps he takes definitely announce his presence but only if the person will. stop. ringing. the. door.

The door almost hits him in the face with how strongly he yanks it open, though at the sight of Hanamichi outside, any sign of irritation and annoyance evaporates into the air.

“Hanamichi?”

“Let’s go to the beach, Yohei.”

“At this hour?”

Hanamichi shrugs his shoulder subduedly. He doesn’t bring anything with him, his large body covered with a loose sleeveless tank top, Shohoku basketball pants, and flip-flops. His red hair is a mess, strands too short but long enough to stick out everywhere. It takes Yohei back to last year when Hanamichi only started to play basketball, a sleepless night with only the buzzing sound of the scoreboard signaling Shohoku’s loss.

“Have you had any breakfast yet?”

The redhead shakes his head, trailing after Yohei after closing the door and locking it without any further prompt. While Hanamichi takes some eggs from the fridge and starts up the coffee, Yohei takes the chance to get ready, and in the privacy of his mind, Yohei cannot help but wonder what lingers on Hanamichi’s mind. No matches this week, not even a practice match. His eyes stray to the calendar hanging on his wall, rechecking it just to be sure, and heaves a relieved sigh. Not about that.

Another possibility, though rare, is a girl’s problem.

Yohei is well-tuned with the love that Hanamichi carries for his crush. He has been there to listen to what Hanamichi has to say about Haruko, chuckling at some of his antics to impress the girl. Even as Hanamichi grows more determined and serious about basketball, Yohei isn’t ignorant enough to miss the fact that in the center of Hanamichi’s new world stands Haruko, as the one who sowed the first seed. No bitterness comes from acknowledging that fact. After all, Yohei has carried his love singlehandedly for years, and at this point, he celebrates any bits of happiness that Hanamichi gets.

It doesn’t matter if it comes from someone else, especially if that someone else is Haruko. He cannot find himself being negative about it when he is endeared with Haruko – someone who is sincere and kind, always ready to give chances to people.

Breakfast is a leisurely affair with toast topped with a sunny side egg, a cup of coffee with a splash of milk for Yohei, and a cup of green tea for Hanamichi. They don’t talk much between bites; if they do speak, it’s accompanied by easy answers that do not require further thinking. Yohei doesn’t press Hanamichi on his problem, and the redhead doesn’t offer anything that might lead to a discussion about it.

It has always been like this for both of them. The question will be answered and laid out when the time comes.

By the time they are ready to move out, it’s close to 8 AM. The neighborhood is getting busier while the sun gets higher, piercing through the leaves and windows with its lights. If it wasn’t for Hanamichi, Yohei would only wake up at this hour, though he isn’t averse to this. To be around the redhead is always a joy for Yohei.

“Where do you want to go?” Yohei asks without looking at Hanamichi, eyes running over his pink moped to see if there are any unspotted blemishes and things that need to be checked over.

Hanamichi certainly has a place in mind with how fast he answers. “As far away as we can go, Yohei.”

“I only know some beaches in Kanagawa, though.” Yohei takes a moment to consider, mind jumping from one to another about the location, the number of people, activities to be done, and makes his decision. “Come on then, Mr. Genius. Don’t complain to me about your sore ass when we arrive.”

“I won’t!”

Due to the small nature of the moped, most of the time, Hanamichi sits very close to Yohei, almost pressing his front to Yohei’s smaller back. Yohei can hear him audibly every time he talks, as if Hanamichi is whispering to his ear directly. No matter how you look at it, it isn’t a comfortable ride for someone with a figure like Hanamichi, to fold your arms and legs like a pretzel with nowhere to hold. It wasn’t a problem a few years back when Hanamichi hadn’t hit his growth spurt, riding around everywhere with plenty of space, so when Yohei noticed it, he mentioned it to Hanamichi.

“It doesn’t matter. You are the only one with a motorcycle, Yohei. Free rides everywhere! ”

The redhead is assertive about his decision, so Yohei no longer bothers with it. Initially, it was hard for Yohei to have someone else invade his space like this, awkwardly aware of every shift behind him, occasionally jumping in surprise when Hanamichi talked. It was even worse after his epiphany that he had utterly fallen on his best friend. No longer awkward but hyper-fixated with everything: a simple movement of stretching his left leg in the red stop, the grip that Hanamichi had on the back of his shirt when Yohei braked suddenly, the warmth at his back.

During that moment, Hanamichi made Yohei feel like he had lost all his confidence in a good way, knees shaking from little things and heart collapsing out of the affection that he wanted to shower on the redhead if given a chance.

He likes to think that he does so much better now. Yohei no longer has to repress his wants to show his affection and care to Hanamichi, even though Yohei tends to stretch the limits to what is considered acceptable as much as he can. The ride together is no longer suffocating instead freeing, sharing the world together, so vast yet conscious only toward each other, and the road stretches ahead. Even if the nature of their relationship never becomes what Yohei aches for it to be, he won’t mind it, as long as he can have this.

It takes almost 2 hours to reach their destination. Tall buildings close to each other and urban areas blur past them to become a long road ahead with three to four-level buildings, away from the city buzzing as the noises taper into tranquility. In place of their usual liveliness, serenity colors their entire ride as they trade stories about recent happenings and nostalgia more in a reminiscing mood than storytelling, hearing murmurs and hummings carried freely as the wind blows, caressing their hair and cheeks.

Here is a sleepy area dominated by quaint little two-story shops, casting small shadows upon modern buildings standing tall behind them. They are generational family businesses, selling snacks and homemade foods, souvenir shops, and rentals for any necessities on beach activities. It is quiet from where they are standing at the parking lot, except for the slow rolls of waves washing to the shore. A few steps forward, Hanamichi’s eager long pace while Yohei strolls behind him proves it right. There are barely any people on the beach, doing their own things like walking their dog, accompanying their child picking pretty seashells, or jogging by the seashore.

Yohei watches with an uncontained smile as Hanamichi skips down the stairs, waving his hands around like an excited 5 year old at the sight of the boundless sea before them. The last trace of his somber mood when Yohei opened the door is completely gone, replaced with uptick corners on his lips and a scrunched-up nose from how hard he is smiling. Without waiting for Yohei, he discards his flip-flops and runs to the sea, legs kicking at the water to cause little splashes.

“Yohei, come on!”

Waving his hand back, Yohei calmly removes his sandals and settles them beside Hanamichi’s faded blue flip-flops. The sand feels gentle on his bare feet, instead of the coarse texture of sand that caves with every step, it’s firm and offers steady footings as he walks toward Hanamichi’s direction. When he finally touches the sea, Yohei cannot help but shiver slightly at the sudden temperature change before his body quickly adjusts to it. The coldness brings him a rush of spontaneity, wanting to submerge his entire body in the sea though he manages to hold himself back from giving in to that desire.

He appraises the boy standing a few steps away from him. Broad and mighty back facing him, the sharpness of his shoulders with the dip between the wings. It’s not once or twice that Yohei longs to lean his head on that space, arms encompassing Hanamichi’s waist in a loose hold, as his mouth unconsciously shapes the melody of a long time ago lullaby, pressing a butterfly kiss as a charm to the fragile bone. 

To understand Hanamichi’s tenacity and fierceness, yet to love him even more for that, Yohei is filled with gentle emotions and love so great that he doesn’t know what to do with them except to treat Hanamichi as the most precious person for his whole life. 

“Good?”

Hanamichi hums, kicking his leg high to splatter the wet sand collecting on his foot as he trudges deeper into the sea. The answer doesn’t come immediately as he stops walking, eyes focused on a specific point far ahead to the unseen line that separates the sky and the sea.

“Yeah.” 

The reply, barely audibly with waves rolling around them, is spoken with depth. Yohei throws his gaze to the expansive blue, wondering what Hanamichi sees when he casts his gaze and the thoughts that harbor in his head at the sight. The moment doesn’t last long, broken when Hanamichi turns his body around to look at Yohei with mischief lining his face.

“Take a dip, Mito-kun !”

Then Yohei goes under, experiencing brief seconds of feeling a palm pushing his chest down and a foot locking his leg in place so he loses his balance. When he comes up, his body is wet, clothes clinging like a second skin, his hair in a sorry state of half soaked and half dry. The culprit is laughing obnoxiously without care, loud enough that Yohei has no doubt the noise travels to the high wall separating the road and the beach.

In a movement that is slightly slowed due to the heavy pressure of water, Yohei pulls the same technique to force Hanamichi down into the water. By means, the flaw of this technique when done to someone significantly bigger than Yohei is to go down together with his victim, though there is no way to escape, with how tight Hanamichi is gripping his wrist. Coldness washes over his skin again as his breaths bubble away, eyes stinging in discomfort at the saltiness of the water, though Yohei ignores it in favor of combing his fingers through red strands, messing it even more.

It must be quite a sight for people passing by if they pay attention, two male teenagers sitting in the sea with clothes unfitting for a swim, half of their bodies submerged like it’s a regular day, from flicking water to each other to pushing each other’s shoulder so the other falls to the water again. 

When he opens his eyes after another dip, Hanamichi is staring at him in contemplation as he extends his hand. Yohei braces himself for another push, eyebrows furrowed when he realizes the large palm is directed toward his face. Before he can prepare for it, Hanamichi brushes his bangs up and away, exposing his forehead. The hair stays as it is for a moment, then Hanamichi combs it down again, oddly gentle in his movement, making sure not to yank Yohei when his fingers meet resistance due to slight tangles and sea salt. 

“What is it?”

A small smile breaks out on Hanamichi’s face, enough to show the little dimple on the corner of his lips. “Hmm, I just think Yohei is really handsome.”

“Ah, is that it…” Yohei looks to the side, hoping the other doesn’t notice how red his ears have become, unable to keep his emotions in check with the honest compliment. It is spoken without hesitation like a secret that Hanamichi gladly shares with Yohei. 

“You are not bad yourself.”

“Of course, I’m a genius after all!”

They do not swim for a long time in the water, instead treading to the shallow part of the sea where the water only reaches their ankles, and lie neatly on it. It takes a moment to get used to this, half the body feeling the sensation of coolness while the other half is exposed to the sun. The waves crash against their body, ears muffled with water that every time Yohei talks, he feels buzzing and vibration inside his cochlea. Yohei talks about the peculiar customers he met in his part-time jobs, weird encounters surreal enough that the experiences feel more like a fever dream. The boy beside him laughs in reply, shoulder nudging against Yohei’s before he offers another story.

Like this, it is so easy for Yohei to take Hanamichi’s hand and link it together if he is allowed to.

“Hanamichi.”

“Yeah…”

“Let’s go to the shore.” 

It won’t do them any good if they fall asleep here when the sun peaks, no matter how cozy it is to lie like this. It’s not worth getting sick for.

“Don’t wanna…”

The slur in the sentence earns a chuckle from Yohei. He doesn’t miss the way Hanamichi is blinking rapidly, trying to stay awake in vain. “You will get sick if you sleep here. There’s a perfect spot on the shore, you can take a nap as long as you want there.”

For a moment, it seems Hanamichi doesn’t listen to what Yohei is saying, perfectly fine to maintain his position. Employing his usual tactic to wake the redhead, Yohei starts to shake his shoulder, making sure to be as annoying as he can and to be more erratic the longer he has to do this. To increase the level of annoyance, Yohei also makes sure to sing without any hint whether the tune will go up and down; the only line he sings is “Wake up Hanamichi” in repeats.

His smile is saccharine sweet, as if butter wouldn’t melt on his mouth when Hanamichi glares at him.

“Hmph! Don’t smile that… that cat-looking smile!”

This best friend of his is way too adorable, sulking from having his nap cut off even though it’s for his own good. Rather than walk, it’s like he is stomping to the shore, never once looking back at Yohei until he reaches where Yohei puts their sandals and flip-flops. 

The spot where Yohei had decided on doesn’t have any shade to protect them from the high sun, no spot on this beach has it unless they choose to sit near the toilet and changing room or rent an umbrella from nearby shops. Squinting his eyes at the clock tower behind the separating wall, Yohei surmises they have enough time to rest before lunch and peak sun hour. 

Hanamichi doesn’t wait for him. He is already removing his shirt, clumping it together to squeeze out the water before snapping it several times to ensure he gets every moisture out. 

“Alright!”

Then the redhead diligently lays his shirt on the sand as a pseudo beach mat and with an exaggerated sigh, sets down the shirt on the sand and lies on it like a pseudo beach mat. 

“Come, come!” Hanamichi pats the spot beside him, eyes locking on Yohei, and it doesn’t take long for Yohei to do the same thing as Hanamichi. Though instead of lying down completely like the other, Yohei is more comfortable leaning his entire weight on his palms, sitting so he can look at Hanamichi better this way.

“After standing up and moving around, I don’t feel sleepy anymore.” Yohei wants to pinch at his pouty lips so badly like a grandma pinching her grandson’s cheek. “It’s your fault.”

“How is it my fault?”

“My precious sleep! If you didn’t ask me to move, I would sleep soundly like a baby already!”

Yohei snorts. “I didn’t realize I’m babysitting a giant baby in my free time.”

“Baby?!” Hanamichi cries out. “Don’t call this genius a baby!”

“You are acting like one, Hanamichi.”

The shout that Hanamichi lets out is more of a squawk, loud and hysteric enough to break a peal of laughter out of Yohei. He doesn’t even pretend that this entire situation is not funny. Yohei and the other gang members know how fun it is to tease and pull a reaction out of Hanamichi from the smallest things. There’s a reason why they annoyingly celebrate Hanamichi’s 50th rejection and laugh at his stupid mistakes in the court.

“Stop laughing!”

He has no qualms about licking the large palm forcibly covering his mouth, tasting dried salt at the tip of his tongue. In a second, Hanamichi withdraws his hand like it’s burnt by fire.

“Nasty! Nasty!”

“I saw you picking up a piece of chicken from a dusty floor and eating it. You are the nasty one.”

“That’s different! We cannot waste food!” Hanamichi reaches out to touch Yohei’s wrist, shaking it like his entire life depends on Yohei agreeing to his point.  “I’m serious!”

“Okay, okay.” Just before Hanamichi can look too satisfied, Yohei tacks on his last words. “Doesn’t change the fact that you are nasty though.”

It ends with his hand being bitten ferociously by the redhead.

For whatever reason, swimming or barely swimming in this case, never fails to make Yohei feel sleepy. The sleepiness weighing heavily on his eyes probably has something to do with waking up early and then being on the road for hours. At this rate, he might have to forgo his initial plan of staying up as Hanamichi falls asleep as he tends to do. It is when he is mulling over whether he should try to stay awake or take a nap that Hanamichi speaks again.

“Yohei.”

“Hm?”

The redhead stops for a moment. “Is going to the beach on a date a good idea?”

His assumption that Hanamichi’s trouble might be related to his crush and how he will take it further are right on the spot. All Yohei wants to answer Hanamichi’s question on how to approach his crush or ask someone out is yes, everything that you want it to be if only Hanamichi asks this for Yohei instead of to Yohei. This is yet another routine for Mito Yohei of giving and providing dating advice as objectively as possible, removing himself from the script.

“Sure, it can be romantic.”

“Even when there is no preparation?” Hanamichi gestures around. “No proper mat, no basket full of food, no sunscreen, no everything? Is this romantic?”

‘It is to me .’

“The preparation is a nice touch, you want to show that you are putting effort into this.” The redhead looks like he is caught off guard, only realizing the sentiment that Yohei mentioned. “It’s not all that bad. What matters is the time you spent together and created as memories. Dates are supposed to let you know the other deeper, don’t you agree?”

“I guess so…”

Determination sets in, a rare face of Hanamichi taking everything in and readjusting his worldview to understand how to approach specific trouble. It’s something that Yohei rarely sees outside a fight and for this past year, basketball. It’s not jealousy toward Haruko that Yohei feels at the moment. Instead, it’s the heavy disappointment from having to collect the bits of expectations that it might be about him, even though time after time has proved that it’s not about him, not that way.

In a split moment that feels like it never goes away, Yohei hates himself, though if asked for the reason, Yohei won’t be able to explain in words why the self-hatred forms itself in his heart and mind.

“Did that ever cross your mind?”

“About what?”

“That you are not wasting your time,” Hanamichi looks abashed. “I know you don’t wake up at 7 AM on your day off. You have been following my whims, not only this time but also other times. Do you think we are properly spending our time and creating memories together?”

His heart constricts at the innocent question, uneasiness weighing it down with the weirdly self-reflecting question. What has been going through Hanamichi’s head?

Hoping none of his worries appear on his face, Yohei pastes an assuring smile. “You did act rude by waking me at god knows what hour.” At the responding flinch, he quickly continues his words. “But where is the confident Hanamichi that brags about his brain power? There is not a second spent around you that I feel like wasting my time. Isn’t this what we do all the time, Mr. Genius? Going everywhere and doing everything as we like for years.”

Yohei reaches out to play with Hanamichi’s damp bangs and brushes away some red strands to give himself something to do with his hand, offering comfort for both Hanamichi and himself. The boy dislodges the touch, turning his body to the side to hide his face in the corner of his elbow, leaving only his lips bare.

“This one is…” the last bit is mumbled. It’s low enough that Yohei has to crane his head.

“What is it?”

If there’s one thing that Yohei especially likes about Hanamichi, it’s how honest he can be without putting it into words. From his expression and gestures alone, people can guess what he thinks of, even if only on the bare surface. The shape of his eyebrows, eyes that show part of his soul, the line in his lips. Then the hard and soft movements, habits and tics. 

For Yohei, who sees emotions as something expensive and to be kept to himself and few important people, Hanamichi is an expressive beauty that Yohei embedded in his mind that he recognizes every stroke that makes Hanamichi and what it means.

He is at a loss this time trying to understand what Hanamichi thinks. Rather than keeping his emotions and blocking everything out from Hanamichi’s side, it’s more of seeing an image with one eye blind, seeing holes in the image that you aren’t sure what you are looking at and how different your assumption will be once the whole image is uncovered. He can parse out insecurity and worries, yet they come and go, and that’s all, unable to see the scope of the emotional turmoil.

“What is it, Hanamichi?” Yohei repeats his question gently.

The only answer he gets is ebbing waves, and when Hanamichi speaks again, it has nothing to do with the question. Yohei lets him be.

They move away not long after that, the loud rumbling of Hanamichi’s stomach is met with laughter. The sun has gradually risen, and the blowing breeze isn’t as pleasant as when they arrived. Light blush paints Hanamichi’s cheek, highlighting his youth and vitality with how radiant he looks. He is topless still, shirt slung over his shoulder as Yohei carries part of his weight with his shoulders. Yohei isn’t sure if a bare arm touching a damp cloth for a long time is pleasant, but Hanamichi makes no comment about it.

“What do you want to eat?”

“There are so many foods to try…” Hanamichi trails off, head turning here and there eagerly to look at the shops selling food. He can hear how loud Hanamichi’s stomach is grumbling. “Oh! Shaved ice! We should get one, Yohei!” As soon as he says that, Hanamichi stirs Yohei to a chiller standing outside the shop a few steps ahead, sliding it open energetically that there’s a resonant sound from the door bumping at the case.

“I thought you wanted to buy shaved ice,” Yohei reaches his hand in as well, involuntarily letting out a relieved sigh at the cold, perusing the colorful packs of popsicles.

“But there are popsicles here. Shaved ice after lunch!”

One soda flavor and one Japanese pear flavor, sticky hands from the melting popsicles, and they (or Hanamichi) eventually settle on an eel rice bowl for lunch.

The place they pick is a small restaurant with little space to do anything other than sit down and eat. Everything is prepared right in front of them by the owner himself, movements quick and sure despite his age. It is quite a show to see how the owner pours the sauce over the eel with a flick of his wrist, preventing the sauce from dripping messily.

When he serves them their lunch, Yohei is pleasantly surprised to see an extra serving of eel in Hanamichi’s bowl.

“Extra eel for the young boy here, it’s great to see how energetic you are! Reminds me of my younger days.” Then the owner breaks into loud laughter.

“Nice!” Hanamichi claps his hands together. “You are the best, old man! This genius will enjoy it to the fullest!”

“Thanks for the food,” Yohei follows more sedately, picking up a piece of glazed eel between his chopstick. When the perfect balance of sweet and savory hits his tongue, hunger washes over him like a high tide, and he cannot stop himself from taking a huge bite of soft eel and rice, pushing them impatiently with his chopsticks.

The only sound in the restaurant is the low drone of music and the clink of chopsticks hitting their ceramic bowl, and even then, Yohei barely notices the music. The touch to his elbow forces his attention away from his lunch, only to see Hanamichi grabbing a generous amount of eel, the other hand carefully holding his bowl below it in case it falls. In confusion, Yohei watches as Hanamichi extends his arm, gesturing to Yohei to put his bowl down.

“Wait, no,” Yohei calls out, realizing what is happening. “That’s yours, eat it.”

“No, this is for you.”

Yohei clamps the eel, giving it back to Hanamichi in vain when the boy quickly draws back, cradling his bowl protectively while shaking his head.

“No! That’s for Yohei! I gave you that and no take-backs!”

“It’s really tasty. You should eat it.”

Hanamichi harrumphs. “I know it’s good, that’s why I want Yohei to eat it more.”

“You…” Yohei gives the boy a cursory glance, trying to find anything out of place with him. None. The redhead doesn’t really share his food, most often preoccupied with his food and he tends to eat more than regular people, so he cannot afford to give his portion to others.

Yohei, on the other hand, is perfectly fine with giving away his portion to Hanamichi.

“Hurry up and eat it! It’s getting cold!”

No other way.

“Half of it then.” He makes a show of cutting the eel meat into two, both in equal pieces. “Here, this is yours.” This time, it’s Yohei who forces Hanamaichi to take the piece.

Thankfully, nothing of sorts happens during the rest of their lunch. There is a triumphant look on Hanamichi's face as he shoves in his food, spraying rice everywhere when the owner cracks a joke and tells stories from his younger days. The owner and Hanamichi get together like a house on fire, matching each other’s fiery passion and butting heads with the same amount of self-brag. Yohei is content to stay by the side and laugh at their antics, offering sparse comments.

‘It’s like watching how Hanamichi will be when he grows older. ’

He cannot take his eyes away from Hanamichi though Yohei doesn’t exert any effort to do so. Even with the artificial overhead lights muting some of his vibrancy away from his face, it does nothing to decrease the loveliness of his delight. You cannot really hide away the sun and its brilliance as long as the earth moves and revolves.

Yohei nods his head to the owner, an appreciative gesture for serving them good food and wordlessly bidding him goodbye. A short conversation is enough to make the owner trust them to look at the restaurant as he goes on a grocery run, reminding them to flip the close sign if they wish to go before he returns. 

“Hey, Yohei.” His voice loses all the mirth from the previous conversation, something more mature that Yohei instantly pays attention to. “I like someone.”

“I know.”

More than knows about it. Yohei has stood beside her as they pray over the victory of Shohoku, talks to her about their daily lives, and helps her with miscellaneous things when no one is around except for him. They have been good friends for the past year. 

Hanamichi folds his arms, leaning the side of his head to them as he pins Yohei at his spot. Yohei tries not to flinch from it, adopting an unperturbed air, black eyes tracking Hanamichi’s face while the redhead does the same.

“I’m going to confess.”

Ah.

The sentence hangs in the air for seconds, and belatedly Yohei realizes that it takes longer than he usually would react to that kind of sentence. He is scrambling over words, flustered at the sudden statement that never occurs in his mind for some reason. Theoretically, he knows this day will happen and has taken time to accept it. In practice, it’s harder to connect his mind and heart to it even though he already thinks of what he will say in this kind of scenario. 

“Is that what you have been thinking all night long?” The shakiness in his words goes unnoticed. “I wish you the best then.”

“I don’t know,” Hanamichi raises his voice, piercing the silence that overtakes them and threatening to break it into a million pieces. Even when Yohei hardly understands what is happening, his heart still aches at the confusion and distress in Hanamichi’s sentence.

“What is it?”

“What if my confession only ruins everything?”

At the question, Yohei finds no answer. The same question appears in his head every time Yohei builds up the courage to even consider saying his feelings out loud. He is like a parched man who finally has a sip of water after a long drought and can never think of parting from it, wanting to drink even the smallest drop of it if only to remember how it tastes and feels. To deny his romantic feelings just so he can continue to bask under Hanamichi’s attention and affection is an option that wins when compared to honesty which leads to complete darkness.

“How do I know we will remain friends if I’m rejected?” Hanamichi covers his face. “I don’t want that.”

The simple act of putting his hand on Hanamichi’s shoulder as support and assurance is heavy, but the words flow from his mouth easily like water.

“You don’t need to worry about that, Hanamichi. Someone that knows who you are won’t reject your love callously,” Yohei smiles sadly. “They will remember your sincerity, and even if you guys aren’t on the same page, they won’t leave you.”

“Why?”

“Because you are Sakuragi Hanamichi.”

Sakuragi Hanamichi who is honest and hard-working. Someone who challenges and motivates you to be the better version of yourself with how stubborn he is. The one who will always attract attention wherever he goes, whether of his physical characteristics or psyche, leaving a strong impression that never disappears. A fire that never dies out and only burns brighter as he matures.

“One can never look away from a genius, isn’t that what you say?”

The boy peeks at him. “You promise, Yohei?”

“I never break my promise.”

“And if you are wrong?”

Yohei is positive that he won’t be wrong about this. The reason Hanamichi faced rejection upon rejection is due to how impulsive he is. He falls in love easily, but he doesn’t understand how to show his love properly by society’s standard, ready to jump through the fire for his love without knowing what’s on the other side. His reputation and this impulsiveness deter people from accepting his honest but brash affection at first glance. Hanamichi is a stubborn person, so of course the people that can match up with him must be equally stubborn.

He and the gang, Haruko and her friends, Shohoku teammates, and some players from other teams are still here because they are stubborn enough in their want to be with Hanamichi.

So even though there is no guarantee whether Haruko will return her feelings to Hanamichi or whether they can nurture their relationship together for romantic love to develop, it’s given that comes high or hell water, Haruko will stick through everything with Hanamichi until the end. She is the one that built the connection first.

He doesn’t acknowledge the mean little whisper in his head that wishes Haruko to reject Hanamichi’s confession.

“If I’m wrong, then maybe I’m not a good friend to you, Hanamichi.”

Hanamichi snaps back quickly. “Even if you are wrong, you will remain a good friend to me.”

Good friend, Yohei repeats inwardly. That’s what Yohei will remain, an odd mixture of exhaustion and comfort at the assurance of an unchanging status quo. Putting up a facade that he has practiced for years, Yohei continues to pursue the topic.

“How are you planning to confess this time? Another letter? Serenade?”

Unexpectedly, Hanamichi seems to think over his question, rather than shouting out his answer that Yohei has guessed to be confessing outrightly without any buffer.

“Which one is better, Yohei?”

Heart lurching at the question, Yohei thinks about how determined Hanamichi is to make his confession as smooth as he can by accepting opinions from others. This will eventually be a boomerang to him when Haruko accepts the confession since he is helping the redheaded, but Yohei cannot find it in himself to regret that choice.

“Oh-ho,” he lightly teases. “The genius himself is asking for an opinion?”

“Silence.”

Yohei raises both of his palms in mock surrender. “Do you want to hear it or not, then?”

“Ugh, you— just answer the question!”

“Letter is fine. I know you have been writing and revising each letter you have written,” in fact, Yohei had read some of them. The cheesiness of the feelings becomes more refined with every recent letter. “It will do. It’s more prepared than confessing right away.”

“How did you confess to people before?”

Yohei shrugs. “Never.”

“Never?”

‘The only one that matters is you, my first love is you, and I certainly don’t do anything about it. ’

Hanamichi glares at him. “All these times, people confessed to you, but you yourself never do it?” He mutters something under his breath at the affirmative shrug that Yohei gives. It isn’t a secret that Yohei often gets a confession. “Which one made your heart beat faster?”

“None.”

“None? ” Hanamichi doesn’t seem to grasp it. “Why didn’t it make your beat faster? Not even a skip?”

The only thing that Yohei feels from those confessions is slight guilt. In a way, he is responsible for causing them to bare their souls to someone that will never look at them twice.

“No, not even a skip. I didn’t know them, they were strangers to me. It feels like something that happened and ended so quickly that I moved on before anything.”

And isn’t it something that their love confession brings nothing to Yohei yet a wide smile and loud voice of “Did you see that, Yohei?! That’s on me!” calling out to him is enough to make him understand in an unspoken manner how his heart works and why it beats all this time?

“Oh.” Hanamichi goes back to hide his face, exhaling a long breath that causes his back to deflate slowly. His answer is muted and low like his strings have been cut and halted everything. 

Way to go, adding another worry for Hanamichi about his love confession.

“I would prefer direct confession though.” Yohei doesn’t offer any explanation on why and Hanamichi doesn’t probe him any further.

The music still drones on pleasantly, a foreign song with language that means nothing to Yohei except for a beat that lingers at the back of his mind. Oddly, what grips Yohei the most is the steady ticking sound of an old clock on the wall, as if his senses have all settled down just for that clock.

“Let’s go back.”

Hanamichi suddenly sits up, pushing away the bowl on top of the table before standing up to stretch his body, only looking at Yohei when there is no response. There isn’t any stark difference in Hanamichi’s expression, not showing any sign of broken tinted rose glasses nor disappointment, though Yohei can see a trace of contemplation on it.

“Nothing to do anymore?”

“No.”

“Head’s all clear up now?”

“Getting there.”

Feeling a little out of sorts but always ready to roll with the punches, Yohei stands up next. “Let’s go then.”

Before they go on a long ride, Hanamichi keeps up with his promise to eat shaved ice, opting for a small portion instead of the regular one. Red beans shaved ice for Yohei and shirokuma shaved ice for Hanamichi, the walk to the parking lot is accompanied by appreciative hums, more so from Hanamichi with his sweeter shaved ice. 

The way back is shorter than the way here, locals gladly telling Yohei the shorter route he can take, making sure that he remembers their directions through hastily written notes. They leave with sweetness on their lips, stomach full from the lunch, and skin sticky from the time spent on the beach without properly washing it away.

Yohei knows how sleepy Hanamichi has become, helmet bumping the back of his helmet as Hanamichi snorts awake, valiantly trying to resist the lull of the wind on his face and tiredness enveloping his body. The boy has been chattering up the storm when they leave, but as the palm trees and short buildings become sparse, turning into cement and sharp infrastructure, he trails off until the only thing Yohei barely hears among the whipping wind is breathing.

It’s hot because noon has come to paint the sky. Any sane person won’t be out in the open without the cover of shadow, but at that moment, even when he can feel the discomfort of damp perspiration under his helmet, his hands burning from where he is gripping the handles, Yohei won’t trade it for anything else. Because it will mean trading away the light around his heart, around his waist from where the other holds him loosely, on his back that meets the wide expense of Hanamichi’s chest, and the little nudges and snuffles as Hanamichi tries to get comfortable with his position.

There never is a day when Yohei doesn’t stop to marvel at the human capacity to love and bear the weight of it, even more so when he is blessed enough to experience that.

After prolonged numbness in his knees and cricks on his neck, they finally arrive in front of Hanamichi’s house. Yohei elbows the other, a silent request for Hanamichi to stand up, wincing at the audible cracks that appear when Hanamichi stretches his body though the boy lets out a satisfied grunt.

“Are you going back?”

Yohei takes a glance at the sky. “Yeah. I think I’m going to pass out soon.”

“Alright.” The redhead looks like he is going to add something to that reply but holds himself back. “Thanks.”

The word is mumbled though Yohei doesn’t miss it. “I have fun today, don’t worry about it,” Yohei ruffles his hair and grimaces. “Your hair is dried up and rough. Go wash up, don’t get sick.”

“I know.”

“Hey, Hanamichi.”

“Hmh?”

“About what you said earlier… When are you going to confess?”

Hanamichi considers Yohei, mouth dropping slightly though no surprise is found in his face, a simple gesture of dry lips.

“Tomorrow.”

This is it then. The last confirmation that Hanamichi is determined to do this, the honest answer a knife straight to his heart, incapacitated but not dead. He isn’t sure if his smile looks as sincere as he hopes to be, wishing for once that Hanamichi doesn’t pick up on anything on his face.

“I’ll be waiting for the good news then, Mr. Genius. See you tomorrow.”

Without waiting any longer to listen to the response, Yohei drives away from Hanamichi’s place, the meter slowly going up, and he is a moment away from letting go of the clutch when Yohei hears his name being shouted, followed by the sound of loud footsteps.

“Yohei!”

It all happens so fast that taking everything in takes him a second. At the shout, he instantly pulls the clutches, one leg coming down to the ground to kill the speed entirely. When he turns, Hanamichi is already right by his side, taking long strides from where he stood initially. His leg is the only thing stopping him from being toppled down to the ground when Hanamichi gets into his space, so close that Yohei can see the light freckles dusting his nose.

“What is it?” The question comes out a little garbled from having his cheeks almost squeeze together with big palms cupping them.

“Why did you look like that, Yohei?”

His heart stops at the question, kicking starts with an unhealthy beat, insecurity gripping at his and constraining his mind. “Look like what?”

“Did you not like it? Tell me, Yohei.”

“I don’t— What do you mean?”

In lieu of an answer, Hanamichi reaches to turn the key in the ignition to an extreme counter-clock position, turning off the moped, and every sound ceases to exist. He pulls Yohei off the moped, foot nudging at the peg so the moped won’t fall down even without someone to balance it upright.

“What are you doing?”

“To my house!”

“But my moped—”

“It will be fine for a while there!”

True to his words, Hanamichi drags him to his house, the grip on Yohei’s wrist tight enough that Yohei is unable to break it off unless he exerts his full strength on it. They don’t go further into the house, standing still in the entryway with Yohei’s back facing the door.

“Stand upright!”

Yohei involuntarily reacts to the booming voice, back straight at the command before his brain catches up. Moreover, the look on Hanamichi’s face… Eyes burning with intensity, and lips drawn in a hard line, focus so great that nothing can take away his attention. Yohei likes it, loves it even, to see that expression because you can always expect something unpredictable and exciting to follow when Hanamichi has that look. However, knowing that whatever unpredictable things might happen are solely related to him, Yohei isn’t that eager to accept it.

“When I said I’m going to confess tomorrow, you smiled. It’s not your usual smile, you are hiding something,” Hanamichi cuts him off before he can even utter a word in defense. “I have seen you, Yohei. I know the shape of your smile.”

How is he supposed to take that? What is he supposed to do with that? Deny it? Accept that there’s something?

“I—”

“When do I plan to confess?”

“What— Tomorrow?”

Hanamichi looks down for a moment. “Wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Wrong. I’m confessing now. Mito Yohei, I like you. I like you so much that I ran circles trying to find the best way to confess to you, and, and, it’s not even like, it’s love.” 

Near the end, his confidence wavers a little, Yohei can hear the hitch coloring the word ‘love’. Yohei doesn’t know whether to speak or shout. All he is aware of is how hard it is for him to breathe right now, constricted inside, his heart, guts, his bones like a cage, the deafening rush of blood on his ears, at the sight of the face that he loves so dearly painted red.

Yohei has seen Hanamichi confessing to girls before, he has imagined a scenario where one of the girls says yes to the heartfelt statement. Their lean fingers will brush away their hair, tucking it behind their hair shyly at the happiness that radiates from Hanamichi, then repeating their answer to Hanamichi’s question once more. Whenever he thinks of himself in that scenario, it’s all black, unable to bring up the vivid colors, everything is dull and lacking.

He used to despair over the lack of colors, shaking his head because to think of it meant to hope for it, and to hope for it meant to expect disappointment. Yohei wonders whether it’s good that he never even introduces color to that scenario because nothing in his mind and words can ever paint something as brilliant as this moment.

“But— I thought— Hanako-chan ?”

A few steps forward and one step back to have Hanamichi towering over him, the redness never losing from his face, going father to spread down to his neck.

“Hanako-san is great. It’s true that I liked her but Yohei,” Hanamichi shakes his shoulders. “You are there. You have seen me cry and laugh, sometimes you are the reason why I cry and laugh. When my old man passed away, you were my light when the world stopped moving for me. You taught me how to live, and then you helped me build my confidence after my rehabilitation.” 

“That’s— That’s not all me, you are the one who made it, Hanamichi, I can offer you my hand but I cannot force you to take it.”

“It doesn’t lessen the worth of your palm against mine. You have been with me since the first day and it took me some time to see you, then I can no longer look away. I see the gentleness in your eyes when you look at me, notice your long fingers that hold and stub out your cigarette around me, how you always make sure that I’m alright without being overbearing,” Hanamichi draws in another long breath as if he doesn’t notice what his narration is doing to Yohei. “That’s only a few things that I notice, Yohei, and they are enough to make me fall in love with you.”

There’s nothing cool about Yohei right now. He always wants to look cool around Hanamichi, posing with confidence and charm, but everything has disappeared to the ground. There is no way to hide the redness in his ears, so hot and tender, the way his eyes keep flicking up and down, from Hanamichi’s eyes to the ground, unable to bear the shyness he feels.

“You are unfair for this, Hanamichi.”

Hanamichi shakily replies. “How do you think I’m feeling right now? I’m so nervous I might die right now if you don’t answer me. I’m so scared that I might ruin our friendship that my hands are trembling,” He sounds like he is going to throw up. “Damn it, Yohei. Why is it that you always see my uncool side?”

The nerve of this kid.

“Do you feel this?” Yohei takes Hanamichi’s hand, palm touching his chest so he can feel the erratic heartbeats. “I can hardly hear anything aside from my heartbeat. I said before that no confession ever made my heart skip a beat, and now you are the only one who not only made my heart skip a beat but also messed up the rhythm,” Then he places the hand over his ear. “Hot, isn’t it? You did this to me, Hanamichi.”

He lets Hanamichi trail his ear, stroking it with his finger while Yohei takes his fill of the redhead’s expression, fascination filling the widening eyes. When Yohei deems it enough, he takes the hand and links it together with his, loosely so Hanamichi can pull away easily if he wants to.

“Hey, Hanamichi, you should hear what I’m going to say next. I have loved you, for so long that I don’t even know when it starts.”

There. He finally says it, the secret he has been holding on to since he was a snot-nose kid who understood how it feels to be around your crush. Gone, gone, gone, the rational and composed Yohei is gone, this is the most honest Yohei can be.

His answer only seems to spark the redness in Hanamichi’s face as the boy gapes, then he squeezes his eyes shut, yanking his hand back to cover his face altogether.

“This is bad, Yohei, my heart is beating so fast right now.”

The bashfulness in his gestures and the whiny quality in his question are the things that snap Yohei’s patience and rationality into pieces.

No longer thinking of anything, Yohei pulls Hanamichi’s hands down, and the first thing that Yohei picks up on is the stickiness on the lips he kisses. A small part of his mind has the semblance to think that Hanamichi must have missed a spot when he wiped his lips after eating the shaved ice. His toes strain a little with his effort to stand as tall as he can, hands settling at the base of Hanamichi’s skull to pull him down so he can kiss the redhead longer.

When he pulls back, Hanamichi’s eyes are squeezed shut, eyebrows scrunched up as if he is expecting to be attacked again, and a low chuckle escapes from Yohei, unable to stop himself from caressing the red cheek, pressing a light kiss on it.

It’s nothing that Yohei dreamt of, as much as he thinks of this kind of situation. What happened a few moments ago and the present isn’t something he ever expected when he woke up this morning. Yohei had expected to lend an ear and give an advice to Hanamichi’s love life, not his own. To this moment, it still feels like everything is a dream with how surreal it is, if not for the warmth he feels under his hands and the grips Hanamichi has on his waist that speak of something more.

“Does this mean I get to walk to school with you every morning?”

Hanamichi snaps his eyes open, glaring at him bashfully. “Stupid, we already do that. You should hold my hands to school now.”

Of course they will. Yohei doesn’t care about the stares they will get, confident that he and Hanamichi can easily finish off people that look at them wrong, or Yohei can because he isn’t going to jeopardize Hanamichi’s future as an athlete. Then, like a comet crashing to the earth, a sudden thought comes over Yohei.

“Wait, this whole day… Is it a date?”

The other grumbles, twiddling with his fingers. “I wished it to be. The thought came over to me when we arrived at the beach, so I treated it like one halfway through it, but it’s not.”

“It better not be then. We can go on a proper date.”

Hanamichi winces. “Was it that bad?”

He should have kept his mouth shut. “No, it’s… the whole time I thought I was helping you to confess your love to Haruko-chan so…”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. You are the only one I see now.” The grip on his hand is firmer now. Yohei wants to curl up and hide away, any more of this he might combust on the spot because to love quietly is what he is accustomed to, not with honest words thrown to his face so directly like this. 

The redhead adjusts their position, hands secured on Yohei’s waist so he can embrace the other, almost lifting Yohei up from the ground. He doesn’t bother containing his smile upon hearing the quiet giggles from the other. 

“You are all mine, Yohei.”

At the low whisper, a rush of possessiveness overcomes him and the grip Yohei has on the thin shirt becomes tighter. “Yes,” he whispers back. “You shouldn’t look in any other direction now.” Because I finally have you with me like this.  

Throwing caution to the wind, Yohei gives a kitten lick at the sweaty nape and peppers it with kisses like an invincible brand, only stopping at the urging palm pushing his chest from Hanamichi that asks for a space.

He can feel Hanamichi drawing a circular pattern on his back with his finger, murmuring, “That… Are you going to stay?”

In a way, Yohei knows right away that this is what Hanamichi wanted to say earlier when he said goodbye. He would like to say yes, to spending more time with Hanamichi, but the euphoric rush he is currently feeling scares him a little, a question on whether it’s alright to be this happy. It’s an insecurity that comes from denying himself of this, thinking that this might come to an end when they step past the entryway.

How does one reconcile with the shifting perspective that the reality you had perceived and adjusted to, living it all these years turns out to be wrong, then being presented with a new reality no matter how much you have wished for it?

Hanamichi must have picked something up from him, whether it shows on his face or eyes, Yohei isn’t sure, because the redhead nudges the bridge of their noses together, cradling Yohei’s head following it.

“Stay. Will you stay with me?”

The act of breathing itself is natural, an inhalation of new hopes and an exhalation of a new future. It doesn’t matter, is it, of the shifting perspective.

“How can I deny you of anything, Hanamichi?” Yohei asks, low enough that he isn’t sure if Hanamichi even hears it, because more than anything, it’s something that Yohei needs to say for and to himself.

Golden light filters from the sidelites, letting more radiance inside the entryway, particles of dust that never disappears no matter how much Hanamichi cleans scatter freely under the beam. Yohei detects the smell of the sea and ozone lightly beneath everything. However, every thought of it disappears with the kisses they share, private amid the picking activities in the neighborhood comes evening.

The sweetness never goes away, no matter how many times Yohei presses his lips again and again on Hanamichi’s lips, once or twice licking it. Body transferring warmth to another, there’s no longer any space separating them anymore, mingling breaths without any beginnings and ends. Hanamichi’s body covers him as he leads the other in this dance, fingers holding each other closer until they merge into one.

The clock barely strikes 3.10 PM when Yohei whispers his reply to the question, captivated by the warmth and radiance of the answering smile.